


No One Else

by marvelandimagine



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5656903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelandimagine/pseuds/marvelandimagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sweetheart Anatoly x Reader. Reader cooks a Russian dinner for the brothers after getting sick of Vladimir's bitching about American food. Fluffayyyy</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Else

“For the love of God, man, the point!! Do you understand the concept of an open player?? Pass to the point!,” you yelled at the Islanders game on your TV as you looked up from where you were cutting vegetables in your kitchen, grumbling that this team would be the death of you.

You felt a familiar pair of rough hands grab your waist from behind and you felt yourself relaxing at the touch even though you continued to chop with ferocity.

“Shhh принцесса, it is just a game,” Anatoly chuckled into your ear as he planted a kiss on your cheek.

You sighed. “It still makes me mad knowing how much these придурки get paid to play and yet they play like shit!”

Anatoly grinned and cupped your face upward; you couldn’t help but smile at him beaming at you. “I’ll buy you new team and you can coach them all however you want, da?”

You let out a genuine laugh and placed the knife down to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your lips to meet yours as he tightened his grip around your waist.

You had been dating Anatoly for a few months now and anyone who looked at the two of you could tell how absolutely smitten you both were. He may have been tough on the outside, but there was an underlying sweetness there that captivated you. You knew he would do anything for you. Whenever you stopped by the garage to see him – even if his men or brother were around he’d croon out “Привет, красавица” and pull you into his lap while you played with his hair as he worked on whatever paperwork he had to read over that day. You’d usually go for a walk and despite the odd looks from some of his men, he never let go of your hand first. You knew he was proud that you were his, and you loved that he wasn’t afraid to show it. It was the same when outside of work; constant compliments and kisses over every inch of your skin. He made you laugh and he made you want to believe in yourself. You would never tire of hearing him say “I love you,” in either Russian or English and you would never tire of saying it.

You both broke apart only when hearing Vladimir’s exaggerated noise of disgust, the two of you flipping him off in unison. “Save that shit for when I leave and focus on the food, I’m hungry,” Vladimir huffed out irritably from your couch, a glass of vodka in one hand.

“Keep up that tone and I’m not feeding you,” you shot back tauntingly as Vladimir made a face at you.

“It probably won’t even be edible,” he said with a wicked smirk.

The smirk vanished when you whipped a well-aimed clementine orange off your counter at his spiky blond head, earning an approving clap from his brother and a glare from Vladimir. “She attacks me and you clap for her? What the hell, Tolya?!” Vladimir snarled.

Anatoly merely shrugged and looked at you proudly. “You know better than to piss her off.”

You smiled sweetly and went over to a sulking Vladimir, kissing the top of his head gently. “I’m sorry I hurt you, little one. You are the reason I’m cooking, anyways.” Vladimir grunted in acknowledgment and you smiled – you two fought a lot, but you knew that he did at least like you and would kill anyone who tried to harm Tolya’s girl.

After getting tired of hearing Vladimir bitch about American food (even though he mostly ate Chinese takeout) you had finally lost it and yelled that the brothers would be joining you on Sunday for real Russian cuisine at your place and there would be no questions about it. Vladimir had looked at you skeptically – you were only half Russian from your mother’s side and Irish on the other. But, you insisted fiercely, your mama had taught you a kickass family recipe for Borscht and if he didn’t want to try it, he didn’t have to come. And while he had grudgingly agreed (you knew Tolya would be there without question), you knew how Vladimir really did miss the sentimental food from his old home – but you knew he was too stubborn to ever admit it freely. And it helped knowing that Tolya had told you in secret how excited Vladimir really was for this dinner – you really did want to make it nice for both of them.

So there you were, putting the finishing touches on your Borscht. You had also picked up a really nice loaf of rye bread, made your favorite garlic-rich pelmeni dumplings, Olivier salad and, as a surprise for later, Apple sharlotka (a recipe from your beloved grandmother). The boys only really knew about the Borscht, but that changed when Vladimir’s head snapped around from the couch like he had whiplash. “What do you have there?” He asked hopefully.

You couldn’t suppress a grin. “Pelmeni, why, does someone like?”

Vladimir’s jaw actually dropped and he raced up from the couch to tear the plate out of your hands with a hurried, “I’ll help you with that,” quickly placing it on the table and staring at it lovingly.

You tried to suppress your giggles as Tolya muttered, “Those were always his favorite. Good call Ангел.” Tolya grabbed the bread and salad while you ladled out generous portions of Borscht into bowls, humming as you dolloped sour cream in it. Putting your waitressing skills to use, you easily balanced three bowls and set them down in front of your boyfriend, his brother and your own place.

“Alright, my loves, enjoy,” you said happily, staring in amusement as Vladimir lunged at those pelmeni. “Damn, Volodya,” you said teasingly.

Vladimir looked up at you intensely as he swallowed. Before you could shimmy away, he had grabbed your face and planted a huge kiss on your cheek. “I know I tease the shit out of you, but that stops,” he said earnestly with a smile. “As long as you keep cooking like this.” You wiped at your cheek but also smiled. Anatoly beamed at you, grabbing your hand and placing his lips to kiss your knuckles and sending butterflies through your stomach. “This is perfect. We can make Sunday our family day,” he said, looking directly at you.

Your heart skipped a beat as he included you as part of his family now – solidifying your importance in his life and in his future. You didn’t know what to say, but the look on his face as he gazed at your tender expression seemed to say he understood what that meant to you.

“Oh!” You said suddenly, standing up from the table to run to your room to grab dessert. You came back triumphantly as the boys looked on inquisitively. “I know it’s early on, but I needed to show Blondie over here just how good I really can-” “SHARLOTKA?! MOTHERFUCKING SHARLOTKA?!” He yelled out like a very mature kid on Christmas.  
You grinned. “I guess the teasing is over forever.”  
Vladimir shook his head incredulously spooning Borscht into his mouth with ravenous delight. “I take anything mean I ever said back, just let me have that dessert!” Tolya laughed and stood up to grab the dessert from you, placing it lightly on the table before pulling you into an intense kiss. “я люблю тебя. спасибо, любовь моя,” he murmured thickly and you were surprised to see his eyes looking rather wet. You kissed him gently.“я тоже тебя люблю.”

Vladimir looked up this time not to make fun, but almost thoughtfully. “You need to marry this woman, Tolya. No other one in New York can cook like this.”

Tolya looked at you in the kind of way that made you melt. He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “There’s no other woman in the world like this.”

translations:  
-princess  
-assholes  
-Hey, beautiful  
-angel  
\- I love you. Thank you, my love.  
-I love you too.


End file.
